Stay with Me (Misty River Romance, A Book #1)

by Becky Wade

  “Yes.”

  “He cooked dinner for Gen the other night,” Natasha told them.

  “Did he?” A gleam came into Ben’s eye. “Do you like him? In a non-platonic way?” he added for good measure.

  “Yeah. I kind of do.”

  “I’ve heard Sam has that effect on every woman in this town,” Ben said.

  “Ben here still likes Leah Montgomery in a non-platonic way,” Sebastian stated.

  “Oh! Of course.” Genevieve couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to ask for an update on Leah sooner.

  Ben taught science at Misty River High School, where he was every eleventh grader’s favorite teacher. More than a year ago, Leah had moved to town to teach the high school’s advanced math students. Apparently Leah was very smart and very pretty. Ben had been interested in her from the start but wasn’t sure whether she had feelings for him in return. Thus, he’d been building a friendship with her in hopes that it might, one day, lead to more.

  “Correction.” Ben took a sip of iced tea, then set down his glass. “I love Leah in a non-platonic way.”

  Natasha leaned forward, flattening both palms on the table. “Love!”

  “Love?” Sebastian asked skeptically.

  “Did you forget to mention to us that you and Leah started dating?” Genevieve asked.

  “No,” Ben answered. “We haven’t started dating. Do you have to date someone to love them?”

  “Usually.” Sebastian spoke with the confidence of a doctor delivering a diagnosis.

  “But not always.” Genevieve hadn’t gone on a single date with Sam, yet she could see how very easy it would be to tumble into love. “I think that love can come before dating in certain circumstances.” Inwardly, however, her protectiveness of Ben stirred. It was precarious to fall in love with someone you were dating. Even more so to fall in love with someone you weren’t dating. She could only hope that Leah would recognize Ben’s awesomeness and love him back.

  “Ask her out,” Natasha urged.

  “I’m going to. It’s just that I don’t want to make any mistakes. I’d rather take it slow and play my cards perfectly with Leah. You know?”

  “What’s your plan?” Sebastian asked.

  “I’m going to run with this friendship thing a little longer while simultaneously upping my flirting game.”

  “What flirting game?” Sebastian asked, deadpan.

  Ben socked Sebastian on the shoulder and bent at the waist laughing. “I have flirting game, man. And I’m hoping that Leah isn’t immune to it.”

  “She isn’t immune to it,” Natasha said. “I’d bet a jumbo box of my kids’ Goldfish on that.”

  “Good luck, Ben,” Genevieve told him. “If she doesn’t swoon over you, she’s crazy.” She moved her attention to Sebastian. “And you? Have you been swooning over anyone since we saw you last?”

  “I have not.”

  Women adored Sebastian. Sebastian, however, didn’t freely give his adoration in return. He’d had girlfriends from time to time, but he’d never appeared to invest himself in any of them. Which concerned her.

  She didn’t want him to become a lifelong bachelor. Singleness was certainly biblical and—hello—she herself was single, so she didn’t have the right to thrust marriage aspirations on anyone else.

  Nonetheless, she did want marriage for Sebastian. With his background and personality and scars, she’d always felt that he needed a family of his own just a little bit more than the rest of them.

  He’d scoff at that if he knew that’s how she felt. Everyone would scoff at that because it didn’t take good eyesight to see that Sebastian was already earning an A-plus at life.

  “Are you still dating that oncology doctor?” Natasha asked him.

  Ben began shaking his head even before Sebastian responded.

  “No,” Sebastian answered. “It didn’t work out. Which is fine. You can count on me to make a good groomsman at your wedding to Leah, Ben.” He saluted first Ben, then Genevieve. “And at your wedding to Sam, Genevieve.”

  “If I were a girl, I’d marry Sam,” Ben told her, “for his buttermilk pancakes alone.”

  Ben had a point.

  “By the way,” Sebastian said to Natasha, “you’re not going to make us play that old-fashioned card game—”

  “Piquet,” Genevieve supplied.

  “You’re not going to make us play piquet after dinner this time, are you?” Sebastian asked.

  “Definitely not,” Natasha answered.

  “Whew.”

  “Tonight,” Natasha proclaimed resolutely, “I’m going to make you play whist.”

  Sebastian

  No one’s come to rescue us.

  I can see morning sunlight through our wrecked windows. I tried to sleep on my arm as a pillow, but I have a migraine, and the floor’s hard and cold. Sirens woke me every time I dozed.

  Even though it’s still mostly dark in here, I can make out the shine of Luke’s eyes, which are wide open. He’s hardly said anything since his phone’s battery ran out.

  The other three—Ben and the girls—kept telling each other last night that someone will be coming for us soon. They’re so spoiled that they can’t imagine life without their parents to make everything easy for them.

  I don’t have to imagine that life. I’ve lived it.

  I’m like a broken toy nobody wants.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sam’s life had gone down the toilet.

  He’d worked so hard to build a life that meant something, that satisfied. He owned a restaurant, and he was the caretaker of Sugar Maple Farm, and he had God. That had almost been enough.

  Then it had started to come apart.

  And not just when Gen had kissed him four days ago. It had started to come apart the morning he’d found her sleeping in his guesthouse.

  He’d continued to follow his daily work routine, yet he was forcing his body through the motions while chaos reigned in his brain. His muscles felt like they’d been beaten. His sleep and eating and purpose—all torn in some fundamental way. He didn’t know how to sew them back together.

  What was he doing? What was the point if he was going to spend the rest of his days alone, doing the same things every morning, afternoon, and night? Over and over and over again.

  When Eli had asked him at their basketball game earlier if he wanted to grab dinner, his first instinct had been to say no, and then go home and hole up as usual.

  In the end, he’d said yes to Eli because eating dinner with a friend had to be better than eating another meal of doubt and regret.

  He was sitting across from Eli at a booth inside The Junction, a dive bar that served the best fried chicken in northern Georgia. Crowds filled the establishment just about every night of the week, and this Monday night was no exception. Locals came either for the inexpensive booze, the chicken, or the atmosphere, which wasn’t fancy but was authentic.

  Red vinyl booths surrounded a scuffed wooden dance floor. Hits from the 1970s and ’80s stocked the jukebox. The curtains were red-and-white checked. The napkins, paper. The restaurant’s smell, down-home cooking.

  He’d ordered the only menu item that gave a nod to dietary restrictions—gluten-free, dairy-free fried chicken. Sam’s chicken crackled as he took his first bite. In addition to the chicken, his large oval plate held mashed potatoes with brown gravy and a mound of shiny green beans.

  He didn’t drink anymore, and he almost never ate fried food. But tonight he didn’t care. In fact, eating fried food suited his self-destructive mood. He might order two more helpings of chicken and consume it all in an effort to fill up his empty places.

  A few yards from their table, an older couple slow-danced to the song “Wonderful Tonight.”

  “What’s on your mind?” Eli asked. “I can tell something is.”

  More like . . . someone was. “I’d like to know more about the Miracle Five.”

  Eli wiped his fingers on his napkin. “What would you like to know?�
��

  Sam speared green beans with his fork. “How long were they trapped underground?”

  “Eight days.”

  Five middle school kids, one of whom had been Gen. Eight days underground. “It really is a miracle that they were able to survive down there for eight days.”

  Eli sat back. “It’s impressive that they survived. But that’s not what’s miraculous about them.”

  Surprise caused Sam to still. “No?”

  “They were in the basement when the earthquake hit. Huge sections of a three-story building collapsed around them, trapping them in a space around the size of a living room.” Eli took a few more bites. “Luke had his cell phone with him, so he called his parents and told them what happened.”

  Sam set his utensils down and rested his hands on his thighs.

  “The kids’ parents immediately contacted reporters,” Eli continued. “They were smart enough to understand that media coverage would lead to public concern and that public concern might help their kids.”

  Sam waited.

  “The best engineers and architects and emergency specialists in the world gathered in El Salvador and raced against time to save them. But the building was in terrible shape. Slabs of concrete were resting against each other like so.” Eli demonstrated the supporting angles with his palms. “Some experts predicted that the structure would collapse at any moment. Others said that if they tried to move one of the slabs in order to get the kids out, the other slab would fall and crush the children.”

  “So how did they do it?”

  “Well, remember.” Eli’s hands remained propped against each other. “When all of this was going on, global attention was focused on those five kids, trapped in one building in the middle of one devastated Central American city. The kids’ parents told the media that they were trusting God to protect their children. And literally all over the world, people prayed for God to rescue them.”

  “And?”

  “And miraculously, He did.”

  Sam searched Eli’s face and found calm truth there.

  “A team finally went in and began taking the building apart piece by piece because it was that or let the kids die from dehydration or starvation. Their initial plan was to reach the kids from the side and leave the two main slabs of concrete in place. But as they were digging, some of the building’s support collapsed. A slab fell in.” One of Eli’s palms met the table. The other remained up at a diagonal. “As it happened, the kids were all sitting under this other slab at the time. By all accounts, this slab should have fallen as soon as the other one did. But it didn’t. It remained at this angle, almost as if it were protecting the kids.”

  “Until they got the kids out?”

  “Just until. Within minutes after they’d evacuated the kids by air, the last slab fell.” His remaining palm gave the table a soft slap.

  “And that’s why they’re called the Miracle Five,” Sam said.

  “That’s why. After the fact, architects could not explain why the concrete didn’t come down on them. All the experts agreed. It should have killed them.” Eli adjusted his drink on its coaster. “If you ask anyone in this town what happened, they’ll tell you that God intervened and saved those kids.”

  A shiver tingled down the back of Sam’s neck. “I’m assuming they took the kids to the hospital?”

  “Yeah. A few had minor injuries. Once the government cleared them to leave, most of them spent the rest of the summer traveling with their families, telling their story. When it came time for school to start back up, their parents brought them home so they could return to their normal lives. But according to the locals who were here at that time, nobody considered them normal after that. How could they? The kids were international celebrities.” Eli inclined his chin toward the front door. “Speaking of . . .”

  Sam glanced in the direction he’d indicated to see Gen shrugging out of her coat. A woman with curly black hair slid into a booth and Genevieve took the seat across from her.

  His throat tightened. Was there anywhere he could go in Misty River where she wasn’t?

  He feared there wasn’t anywhere in America or Australia—or the entire planet—he could go to get away from her. She changed the air he breathed.

  She picked up a menu and cast a relaxed look around the interior. Their eyes met with the force of metal striking metal.

  Her face blanked for a full second. Then she put on a smile and lifted a hand in greeting. He lifted his hand in response.

  She faced her menu.

  He caught himself staring at the way the light glinted against the strands of her hair. He jerked his focus to his plate.

  “Huh,” Eli said knowingly.

  “Don’t say anything,” Sam warned. Shortly after their server had taken away Sam’s plate, two guys left the bar and made their way to Gen’s table.

  Sam’s torso tensed.

  Gen and her friend raised welcoming faces. The guys’ body language communicated confidence as they chatted with the women. They were white-collar types around Gen’s age. No doubt they had more in common with her than he did. They’d probably never felt like outsiders in their life. They’d probably be better for her than he would.

  After a time, Gen and her friend scooted over to make room for the men at their booth, and the food Sam had just eaten turned into a lump of sand in his stomach.

  He was the one who’d told Gen they couldn’t be more than friends. So it was beyond stupid for him to feel jealousy now.

  Except he did.

  He’d told her they couldn’t be more than friends, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want more. He did. He wanted her to look at him with tenderness and keep him company and laugh with him and stay with him on his farm.

  Their server returned with their check, startling him.

  Gen and one of the men rose and moved to the jukebox.

  Sam pulled his wallet from his back pocket and laid out bills to cover the cost of the meal and tip.

  “Everything okay, man?” Eli asked with a note of concern.

  “Sure. Everything okay with you?”

  “I’m doing great.” Eli appeared to want to say more.

  “Don’t say anything,” Sam told him for the second time.

  “Fine.” Eli shook his head wryly and stood. “I’m glad we did this.”

  “Me too.” Sam pushed to his feet.

  “I’ll see you at the gym.”

  They shook hands, and Eli made his way out.

  Sam hesitated, split between wanting to be anywhere else and wanting to talk to her.

  Since they’d kissed, they’d texted each other about the next Fall Fun Day. He’d seen her gardening once and heard her doing laundry once. But they hadn’t spoken face to face. They’d agreed on friendship the other night. So he’d speak with her and, after he did, maybe it would get easier to be near her.

  He crossed to the jukebox.

  “Good evening,” he said and realized instantly that he sounded forty years older than he was.

  “Hey,” she said warmly.

  The guy with her gave him a mask of friendliness that didn’t cover the message of “Back off, I was here first.”

  “It looks like you had the same idea my friend Ellie and I had tonight,” Gen said. “Were you craving fried chicken?”

  “I was.”

  “Same.”

  Sam met the shorter man’s eyes and gave him a look that said, “Back off, I was here first” far more strongly. “Can you excuse us for a moment?”

  “Uh.” The guy looked uncertainly to Gen.

  She gave him a nod, and the guy moved back to their booth.

  “That was a bit gruff,” she whispered.

  “I’m gruff.”

  “I thought I’d choose a song.” The ends of her plaid scarf swung forward as she leaned over the selection. “I think I’m going to go with ‘Walk This Way’ by Aerosmith. A classic.”

  He was more of an INXS fan.

  She pushed a coin
into the machine. She’d repainted her nails since he’d seen her last. They were short, square, and burgundy.

  The opening notes of “Walk This Way” played.

  “You’ll be pleased to know,” she said, “that I gardened alone the other day and didn’t murder a single chive. I don’t think.” She looked right into his eyes. One edge of her lips tipped up.

  In response, desire cut through him. Clean, hot, unmistakable.

  “Your garden is safe with me,” she said.

  But what about him? Was he safe with her? At this point, he’d gladly let her murder every vegetable he had if she’d just let him escape with his life. How was it possible that a temporary tenant who took too many painkillers but could preach like Billy Graham had turned his life upside-down to this degree? “Are you back to your schedule?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Here’s the thing. He could tell himself that she was a temporary tenant who took too many painkillers all he wanted. However, she couldn’t be explained that simply. Gen was much more to him than a tenant. Much more to him than Oxy. Much more to him than a preacher.

  She was Genevieve, and he was terrified that he might love her.

  It had given him no pleasure to react to their kiss the way he had. All he’d received out of it was the cold knowledge that he’d done the right thing. For seven years, that’s what his life had been. An endless series of right choices.

  Now she was acting like she was content never to kiss him again, and he didn’t want her to be content with that, because he wasn’t.

  He’d thought talking to her would make things easier. So far, it felt harder.

  “I’m glad everything’s going well,” he said abruptly. “Catch you later.”

  “Oh. Okay.” The lightheartedness in her tone informed him that she couldn’t care less whether he stayed or went.

  He went, stalking into the night in a temper blacker than Kayden’s coffin.

  Ben

  I didn’t sleep much last night.

  I kept waking up in a panic. Then I’d pray and pray and pray until a sense of calm would finally come over me. Then I’d think about my family, my house, my bedroom, and my dog until I fell asleep again.